"Please, I swear I will not tr-"
Snap
And here I go again, executing the same lethal move with precision by twisting the neck of my target. Once the deed is done, I carefully discard the body, ensuring it is hidden from view, and then glance back to assess my surroundings.
To my vision, I see that I have already surpassed the height of the clouds, their fluffy forms now far below me. I have reached the midpoint of my journey to the Aethergateway.
It's quite peculiar to contemplate, but as I ascend higher into the sky, time seems to slow down around me. However, this phenomenon does not affect me directly; rather, it is the time surrounding me that progresses more slowly. Even now, the rock I have thrown is descending in slow motion, illustrating the altered perception of time at this altitude.
I'm quite uncertain how this works, but I couldn't care less. I already spent 18 hours getting here, with 6 hours left for me I need to hurry. However, with the time deceleration here, I effectively have 15 hours to complete my journey. If I go even higher, the deceleration of time increases, giving me even more time to reach my destination.
Humans in this height are whole different story now, as they are mostly new holy knights, low sovereign knights, and a few extraordinary individuals. These changes have altered the dynamics of encounters, making them more challenging. To ensure my victory, I must rely on the power of my nature spirit. Therefore, I believe I would spend over 12 hours to reach peak of mountain. And sadly this is most favorable scenario, as there is a high probability that I could be ambushed by multiple opponents simultaneously, which is the most likely situation I will face.
"Even now I'm still weak… when will I reach level where I would have no need to seek power… it has been over 13 years since I started to live like this I'm getting tired of constantly seeking power and… fighting battles that might kill me"
I spent the whole 18 hours fighting and facing danger.
Not just me, even humans are tired. Everyone is tired, and I'm reaching my limit. I don't know how long I will last, but I just want to sleep. Yet, sleeping meant certain death, thus I can't rest.
Then my nightmare came true.
"Well, isn't this the famous harbinger of death?" one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
"Haha, I was thinking about killing him after getting into Aethergateway, yet he came here by himself. This is a sign that the great holy will is telling me to kill this bastard," the other one laughed, his tone equally sinister.
One of these two individuals appeared to be a holy knight, while the other was someone I couldn't identify, but he was clearly not a low sovereign knight.
"Why is my luck like this?" I muttered inwardly as I drew my sword, a demonic weapon I had obtained from the demonic domain. Although I wasn't knowledgeable about it, I knew that demonic weapons possessed the will of a demon. The moment a human touched it, that will inside weapon will began to corrupt the user. However, as a monster, it had no effect on me. I was still unsure why, but I couldn't care less when it was providing me with the strength to survive.
I took a stance to fight and activated the self-minded mode of my nature spirit. Although this was my fourth nature spirit, which wasn't suited for combat, it was still powerful. With careful use, it could be deadly and effective against anyone.
"Forgive me for being…" I said, but before I could finish, my nature spirit used her power to create a layer of barrier around my body. This barrier was incredibly strong and came in handy during a fight like this.
With her six wings, she flew toward them like arrows. Her wings, which were full of soft white feathers, solidified like metal. She twisted her body, spinning in the air as she targeted those humans. Once they saw her, they jumped away, dodging her attack. After all, my nature spirit was still powerful, and if they were hit by her attack, it was guaranteed that they would receive a mortal wound.
I moved as well, seizing the opportunity to pressure them.
In a flash, I materialized beside the Holy Knight, my sword poised to sever his arms. But with extreme speed, he twisted his body, narrowly evading my slash.
Undeterred, I unleashed my telekinesis, propelling him to the ground with the force of a rock being hurled, causing spider-web-like cracks to form as he lay on his back. I swiftly maneuvered through the air, aiming directly at the Holy Knight.
I created a burst of magic energy from my body, propelling myself towards him. However, the Holy Knight regained consciousness so quickly, he used his holy power to erect a barrier that blocked my attack. My sword managed to pierce the barrier but became lodged halfway.
Determined, I concentrated my magic energy into my leg and delivered a powerful stomp on the barrier.
Boom.
The barrier shattered, but it was followed by chains of explosion that sent me airborne once more. Harnessing my magic energy, I created a burst of magic energy to gain momentum, dashing towards the Holy Knight again.
As I crashed down into ground like meteor, he sidestepped to the left, evading my thrust of blade which pierced earth. I retrieved my sword from the ground quickly and dashed towards him, delivering a kick infused with magic energy.
The resulting burst of kinetic force shattered his armor and dispersed the surrounding dust, yet he remained unmoved.
Before I could comprehend why, he seized my leg and swung me into the ground with such force that I was embedded deep within the earth.
Then he then pulled me out and hurled me away with immense strength, forcing me to generate another burst of magic energy to slow my descent. Despite my efforts, I crashed into a wall of rock, which collapsed upon me.
"Well, thought luck," I muttered, pushing aside the giant boulders to free myself from the debris. I glanced at the Holy Knight, who was watching me with a twisted smile.
"So you are that type, huh? Fine by me."
I brushed the dust from my cloth and met his gaze with same smile that plastered on his face.
Then I raised my skeletal hand, the will of magic roaring within my core like a raging storm. It spiraled outward, tearing through the air as I molded it with my mind, and the aura around my palm blazed brilliantly, pulsing with lethal intent. From that light, countless whips of condensed magic energy erupted, faster and sharper than before, each one snapping into existence like a serpent born from lightning.
The whips tore through the sky with a piercing howl, their tips crackling violently with raw power, leaving streaks of searing light in their wake. The world around me seemed to tremble under the rhythm of their strikes. Sharp cracks and thunderous snaps filled the mountain peak.
With a flick of my wrist, the tempo intensified. My whips twisted, coiled, and lashed with immense speed, each strike detonating the air with explosive shockwaves. The ground quaked beneath us as stray lashes carved deep gouges into the stone, sending shards and dust flying. Every impact ignited the battlefield in flashes of blinding light, painting the mountainside with fleeting streaks of fire and shadow.
The Holy Knight began to move, his figure a blur amidst the chaos. He weaved and dodged, his armor glinting in the storm of radiant energy, but the whips were relentless. One struck a boulder just behind him, shattering it into a spray of rubble that rained down the cliffs. Another coiled around a jagged pillar of rock, splintering it with a violent boom before snapping free to seek its target again.
Sensing his approach, I shifted my stance and unleashed a second wave. The whips now moved faster than the eye could follow, creating a storm of glowing serpents that crisscrossed the air. Sparks and shards rained around us as the kinetic force of the barrage warped the battlefield. I leapt backward, using bursts of magic energy to propel myself higher, and lashed down from above, sending the whips crashing toward the Holy Knight like a dozen meteoric strikes.
The very air tore open under the assault, the sound a chorus of snapping thunder and roaring winds. Even as he closed the distance, dodging with inhuman reflexes, the relentless storm of whips forced him into a deadly dance, each near-miss leaving his armor scorched and the ground beneath him fractured.
Then I saw my opening. Raising my hand toward the Holy Knight, I willed every whip to converge. They twisted and spiraled downward in a controlled pattern, each one colliding with another as they closed in. The collisions formed a spherical structure, a cage of interwoven whips that crackled in the air with restrained force. Gradually, the sphere shrank, compressing the whips into tighter loops until the remaining space within was no more than a 5 meter radius.
The Holy Knight stood at the center, his eyes locked sharply on mine. Despite the trap closing around him, his expression did not shift to fear or panic. Instead, he observed calmly, as though studying my technique, his posture unyielding and his stance ready to act at any instant.
Then he vanished from sight and reappeared right beside me, though I was completely unaware of how it happened. I suspect it was teleportation. Instinctively, I swung my free hand, which was gripping a sword, but before it could complete its arc, he swiftly grabbed my elbow and delivered a powerful kick.
The impact sent me flying through the air, and when I crashed into the ground, the force was so immense that I was buried deep within the earth, at least 10 meters or more.
This is precisely why I believe I must rely on my nature spirit. Nature spirits possess such immense power that they can be likened to true holy knights or sovereign knights. Although they are only at the Naveara spirituality process, this is more than sufficient to obliterate me completely. Only if I were rank 14 could I hope to match the power of a lesser holy knight.
"It is just like that time," I thought.
Back in the 8th region, when I arrived as a slave, I was under the servitude of a holy knight. From them, I learned many valuable lessons, and the most crucial of all was that they always had a trump card. Teleportation is clearly not his trump card, which is why I am holding back and engaging in a long-distance fight with my sword. Otherwise, I am in serious trouble.
Then again, my primary trump card had always been my nature spirit, but I possessed a second, more clandestine weapon: the ability to summon two nature spirits simultaneously for a brief period. This technique, though immensely draining, was the perfect stratagem to catch an opponent off guard, as few could anticipate the sudden surge of power and coordination that two spirits could bring to a battlefield.
I steadied my breathing, feeling the pulse of energy coursing through my skeletal hand. My current nature spirit hovered protectively nearby, her luminous wings beating softly as if sensing the impending escalation. Internally, I calculated the timing. I could not maintain two summoned spirits for long—mere minutes, perhaps less under sustained combat, but a single, perfectly executed maneuver could turn the tide.
From across the ruined terrain, the Holy Knight's voice cut through the howling winds and the crackling remnants of my last attack.
"Come on! I expected more from you! Is this truly the fearsome monster I was so eager to face?" he shouted, his tone a mixture of mockery and challenge, eyes gleaming beneath the dented visor of his scorched armor.
I did not rise to the bait. Anger was a luxury I could not afford and pride in the unholy path I walked was a burden that served no purpose here. I let his words wash over me like a passing storm, unheeded and unacknowledged, my focus unwavering.
"Sorry," I said evenly, my voice carrying through the air like a cold whisper, "but I am not foolish enough to be provoked by taunts, nor do I take pride in my deeds of unholy paths. Save your attempts to anger me for others who care about such things. You'll find no satisfaction in me."
Even as I spoke, the plan crystallized in my mind. second nature spirit can be summoned moment I will it so when timing right I will strike.
With those thoughts, I invoked my transformation magic, feeling the raw surge of energy ripple through my bones and echo in the hollow of my chest. I became a colossal skeleton, my body stretching until I towered four times taller than the Holy Knight. Six arms unfurled from my frame, each one alive with the will to destroy.
I rose from the rubble, stones tumbling off my shoulders and chest as dust swirled in the storm of my ascent. My hollow eyes flared with cold light, and I gripped my demonic sword in one massive skeletal hand. Two other hands spun and cracked whips of magic energy, their searing energy hissing through the air, eager to lash out. And two hand traced the shapes of complex hand signs, forming boost magic while transformation magic is utilized, while my final hand summoned a barrier of shimmering magic energy, a small shield that shimmered like a sliver of moonlight, ready to deflect a killing strike.
Then, I with my new speed and strength five times better than my previous self, lowering my shoulder to drive into him with full force. The sudden burst of kinetic force finally prompted him to treat the fight seriously. He drew his sword in a fluid motion and immediately activated his barrier, a shimmering shield of holy light forming around him to absorb the impact. My shoulder hit the barrier with a solid thud, sending a ripple through its surface, signaling that he no longer considered me an opponent to underestimate.
Then, with my other two arms, I swung the whips of magic energy. This time, there were fewer whips than before, and that was intentional. By reducing the number, I could focus more force into each one, making them significantly stronger. The boost magic flowing through me amplified their power further, enhancing every strike to meet my intent.
With fewer whips and two hand to manage, they also moved with greater precision and flexibility. Each lash responded to my control smoothly, gliding through the air in wide arcs or tight spins as needed. The concentrated power behind their strikes made them pierce and carve with efficient, fluid motions, rather than the wild flurry I had used before.
In the midst of the intense clash, whenever they encountered barriers, these barriers were shattered with a force so powerful that they broke apart like fragile glass. Seizing these critical moments, I delivered a powerful kick to the holy knight. The impact was so immense that it generated a shockwave, creating a massive crater in the earth beneath us. As the holy knight thrown away, I swiftly followed up by swinging my sword. Each slash I made was imbued with magic energy so it manifested and like moon blade toward holy knight.
Then, without waiting, I dashed toward the Holy Knight. As I had anticipated, he dodged to the left, avoiding slashes in mid-air. I then used my whips on other two arms to block his path.
Just as his back hit the whip, I struck him with my barrier like a shield, which broke off his tooth. Blood gushed out of his mouth. I followed this up with a sword thrust at his chest, but it failed because he used, I don't know for sure, his trump card.
A light covered his body, protecting him. He then dropped-kicked me into my chest so hard that I was thrown away, losing my transformation magic stability in the process.
My boost magic, which is support-type magic and requires me to hold a hand sign to activate it, was also nullified along with its magic I created magic.
I managed to execute this combination of techniques because of my extreme Harbinger monster attributes. These enhanced my proficiency and gave me precise control over the will of magic.
But my body also allows the simultaneous use of multiple types of magic. In comparison, most extraordinary monsters can only channel one type of magic at a time, and their proficiency increases gradually as they advance in rank. Up to rank 9, they are generally limited to one type usage.
However, at rank 12, I am capable of sustaining 4 distinct types of magic concurrently, all at a proficiency level equivalent to rank 9. This balance of control and capacity is what makes such complex moves possible for me.
"What the hell was that how did you get so powerful suddenly"
"I don't know magic wait this is magic" I said jokingly to holy knight while getting up I can understand why he is surprised at this level
Human magic is mostly focus on constant same level of power not burst of sudden power even though there is methods their back flash is dangerous and if I used 4 arm with perfect hand sign in my boost magic I would have been 125 times stronger but there is catch it's magic energy expenditure is overwhelming specially for me
"Ever since I returned to my homeland after my squad's death, I can't quite make sense of what's happening inside me. My emotions feel like a broken mosaic, like fragments of anger, grief, sorrow, and hatred, all jagged and sharp, yet there's no warmth, no light. Excitement doesn't come, and fear… fear is strange." I know I should feel it. I know the situation is terrifying. But there's just emptiness where fear should be, a hollow place that echoes rather than trembles.
This confusion has been troubling me, and it's weakening me in ways I can't take any kind of measurement. My emotions, or maybe the absence of them in the right places, keep me from sustaining a long fight. They won't let me draw on magic energy steadily, they stop me from maintaining that constant supply I need to endure. And bursts of power come almost never appear but sometimes unpredictably, like sparks in a storm, they appear and then vanish, leaving me more drained than before.
"Only with boost magic I'm getting this far so I'm glad I learned it from other extraordinary monsters during my time as slave"
It is undeniable that due to this peculiar and tumultuous state of emotions, I possess the capacity to be exceedingly cruel and ruthless, enabling me to carry out such sacrilegious and blasphemous acts. This emotional turmoil has granted me the strength and resolve to tread upon this unholy path for an extended period, allowing me to persist in actions that defy moral and ethical boundaries.
"… I will take this seriously even though you are not strong and get weaker to take that demonic weapon. Your growth and potential is terrifying. I need to kill you," Holy Knight said as he walked toward me with his sword ready. And right now I'm on the ground, helpless to do anything well. In his vision, I need to get him close to me. After all, I give him the impression that I'm dangerous.
"Such a waste if only I had Disolve potions. I would have gained such an overwhelming supply of power. Such a waste." Soon, he reached for me, his sword around my neck.
"Aren't you considering becoming my slave? If you do, I will spare you. And I promise I will free other monsters who are slaved under me. Hmm," he asked, his sword getting closer to my skeleton neck.
(What a damn liar! Even if you tell the truth and release them, other humans will recapture them. I have seen how it works. This is how you hold back extraordinary monsters in slavery, and you force us to create a seal of vow. So no, I will not fall for that even if you were genuinely honest.)
"So what do you say? You clearly want to-" he said.
"Just kill me," but I interrupted him, then grabbed his blade and pushed it deeper into me, which surprised him before he could talk. I had taken him by surprise as I summoned whips from my chest, binding him to the ground.
"What the hey? What do you think you are doing? Release-"
Before he could finish speaking, a pale, steady light radiated from my body. My second nature spirit emerged, towering behind me with a presence that was both vast and tranquil. She seemed to dwarf both me and the Holy Knight, as if we were small children gathered under the shelter of her protection. With deliberate, controlled grace, she extended her six broad wings and slowly curled them around us, forming a sealed sanctuary of feathered wing.
A soft, constant hum resonated in the air, filled with an unshakable sense of finality, as she activated her ability. The space within the enclosure of her wings became otherworldly, a place where the rules of the battlefield no longer applied. Everything inside these wings would be erased, leaving only me.
"Hey, stop it! Release me!" the Holy Knight roared, his voice sharp with sudden alarm.
He struggled violently, but it was futile. I had already bound him with my most durable whips of magic energy, each whip glowing faintly with a reinforced with boost magic as my left hand held the perfect hand sign. there was no escape for him now.
The light intensified until it became blinding, forcing me to shield my eyes. The hum rose in pitch, vibrating through the air and my bones alike. The Holy Knight's voice choked off mid-protest, drowned in the radiance.
When the light finally faded, silence fell like a shroud. I lowered my hand cautiously and opened my eyes. All that remained was me, standing on the bare ground. Everything else like stone, dust, and foe had been utterly erased.
"Well, talk about an anticlimactic ending… guh." I collapsed to the ground, my body trembling and unresponsive. The effort of summoning my second nature spirit had pushed me far past my limits. My body felt like lead, and even controlling magic energy flow had become a laborious task. Every part pulsed with the dull ache of overexertion, and a cold fatigue seeped into my bones.
My second nature spirit hovered silently above, her luminous wings casting a gentle light against the ruined terrain. Without a word, she descended and carefully lifted me into her arms. Her grip was firm yet soft, and I could feel the faint hum of her spiritual energy stabilizing my faltering life force.
We rose slowly into the air, leaving behind the silent battlefield that had consumed so much of my strength. The wind was cool against my face as we ascended, carrying me toward a safer place. Even as consciousness began to fade, I felt the steady presence of my nature spirit, a rare sense of relief spreading through me. For the moment, I was safe, and that was enough.
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After discovering the entrance to the Land of Kall, my squad and I wasted no time in reporting our findings to the high commanders of Moltier City. The gravity of our discovery was not lost on any of us, as the entrance had been a subject of whispered speculation and countless failed searches for decades. When the commanders received our report, their expressions were a mixture of restrained excitement and grave calculation, for the Land of Kall was not merely a mystery but a potential key to untapped power and ancient secrets.
The moment I will never forget is when I saw the elite teams of researcher monsters being assembled to approach the entrance. These monster, each specialized in deciphering ancient mechanisms and unraveling mystical puzzles, moved with a practiced precision that spoke of countless prior expeditions. Their purpose was clear: to analyze the elaborate seals and traps safeguarding the gateway and to unlock the mysteries of the Land of Kall without triggering the catastrophic wards rumored to annihilate intruders.
I decided, without hesitation, that I would accompany them. Though I am a combatant and a survivor by nature, I had spent years traveling across and studying the 9 Regions, gathering knowledge both as a wanderer and as a reluctant scholar in the service of survival. My accumulated experience in investigating relics, deciphering inscriptions, and deducing the behaviors of mystical constructs rendered me more than competent among the ranks of these specialist monsters. Truthfully, their official levels as "researcher monsters" meant little to me. the skill, instinct, and practical familiarity with the unknown were far more valuable in the field than an assigned classification.
The researcher monsters themselves seemed to accept my presence without question. They carried instruments of delicate craftsmanship, inscribed with runes that glimmered in muted colors, each tool suited to probing the locks of ancient civilizations. They communicated with low, resonant sounds or sharp chimes, their language of focus and efficiency. I knew from my prior encounters with such teams that every movement was rehearsed, every formation a product of trial and error in deadly conditions.
As we approached the entrance, which was deep into cave like structure the aura of the Land of Kall pressed against our senses like a silent tide. The air tasted metallic, laced with the faint scent of ozone and stone dust, and the ground itself hummed underfoot with dormant energy. In that moment, I felt the keen edge of anticipation. My role was clear, to observe, to assist, and, if necessary, to intervene where understanding of the Nine Regions' dangers was needed.
I knew the path ahead would be perilous. The puzzles and traps of the Land of Kall were designed to test both intellect and resolve. Yet, standing among those researcher monsters, I felt that my years of wandering, studying, and surviving had led to this singular moment. I was no mere tagalong; I was a scientist in my own right, tempered by experience rather than title, ready to face whatever the Land of Kall had hidden for so long.
"…Origin language again… It appeared in the inheritance, and now here, on the Land of Kall's gate. Two thousand years old, and yet it feels… off. No, there is something I don't know."
I stared at the markings, my skeletal fingers tracing the air just shy of their surface, as my mind spun in circles. A hundred thoughts clashed inside me, colliding and fracturing like shards in a storm. I knew the Nine Regions well, almost by instinct, yet, when it came to my home, my understanding was fractured, incomplete. I only possessed fragments of its secrets, like pieces of a vast map I had never seen whole.
Each mark drew more questions. Why in the inheritance? Why here? What connection weaves through centuries of power and silence? My head ached with the weight of the unknown, but alongside the confusion, a spark of clarity burned. I could feel the pattern, even if I could not yet name it. My thoughts moved like quicksilver, grasping at logic and intuition both, piecing together the edges of a puzzle that refused to reveal its heart.
It was maddening, yet exhilarating. Beneath the fog of uncertainty, my mind was getting crazy
"Beneath the endless sky I roamed,
A monster seeking what minds have known,
Through whispers of the deep I combed,
Where secrets shiver in undertone." I translated first sentence on gate then start to read second sentence
"The lord of seas, in silence, sways,
He keeps the truths in darkened bays,
I cast my dust to drifting wave
For knowledge, I became its slave." This is something unexpected seeking knowledge yet becoming slave to obsession that is something I don't see often
"I dove below the sunlit gleam,
Past fractured light and half-lost dream,
Each answer drew me further down,
Till no more breath could lift me now." And just as I expected knowledge is deep when one dive without rationality
"The weight of knowing pulled me deep,
Into the far abyss I keep,
And there, too far to ever climb,
I drowned in truths beyond my time." Truth beyond my time that is something I can comprehend after all as empowered monster I was beyond time but what does it mean my mind is still trying to solve mysteries of origin language now becomes even more busy trying to find meaning behind them
"Did anyone find anything?" I asked, turning slowly to look around the chamber. The stone walls were covered with carved symbols, many of them faded, some still sharp despite their age. Dust drifted in the air, moving in thin layers that caught the dim light from the researcher monsters' equipment. The floor was mostly flat stone with a few cracks and uneven sections where small fragments of rock had broken off.
Most of the researcher monsters were using scanning devices or other tools. One of them held a rectangular scanner with runes along its edges, which projected a soft green light on the walls, moving slowly as it searched for anything unusual. Another crouched near the ground, using a small tool that emitted a steady hum, pressing it to the floor and watching for changes in the vibration or sound. Farther back, two others were checking an area of the wall with thin, rod-like instruments, tracing over the carvings to record or measure them.
The sounds in the chamber were simple and consistent. There was the low hum of the scanners, the occasional click of a tool being adjusted, and the faint scrape of claws on stone as the monsters moved. No one spoke because they are too deep into this stuff and they kept working, scanning and checking every surface. The air had a faint metallic smell and was cool against my bones. Small runes on the devices glowed in blue and yellow patterns, indicating that they were actively collecting information.
I stood still, watching them work. The process was careful and slow, with each monster focusing on their section of the chamber. Their scanning patterns overlapped slightly to make sure no detail was missed. Occasionally, one of the devices would give a soft chime or flash when it detected something worth examining more closely.
Nothing else moved in the chamber except for us, and the only changes came from the shifting lights of the scanning devices and the small particles of dust disturbed by our movements.
"…I can't deny a sharp twinge of jealousy gnawing at me as I watch them work. In the days I wandered through the 9 Regions, I had nothing—no sleek scanners, no humming devices to unveil the mysteries of the world. Every step I took toward knowledge was carved from hardship and danger. My accomplishments were forged through unrelenting struggle: deciphering fragments of historical records, reconstructing ancient truths from scraps, and surviving battles that should have ended me."
"I twisted my own intelligence into knots to survive using mind magics, wisdom type arcane artifacts, self-intelligence manipulation techniques, all of it bent toward keeping me alive and pushing me further. Years of isolation, of facing death and enduring pain, built me into who I am. And yet, now, these researcher monsters simply press a single button and the secrets of the ancients reveal themselves."
"It feels unfair, like the world has finally decided to lend its hand, but only after I had clawed my way to understanding through blood and exhaustion. Even in this moment, the bitterness of envy lingers beneath the pride of my hard-won achievements, knowing that every step I took here was lined with a cost they will never bear."
"What am I thinking? This is no time for complaints. The cipher before me is laced with potent magic energy, its grade is difficult to pinpoint, perhaps somewhere around grade five or six. Regardless, I know this much, without the proper approach, the gate is unbreakable. Even a rank 9 monster would require effort of years to break the gate."
Since I lack a wisdom type arcane artifact, which makes the prospect of solving this puzzle through sheer intellect alone barely possible. And I am also not an extraordinary monster right now which means magic is something I can't rely on. And even then magics I can use are half-cooked, unrefined, and mind magic, while theoretically an option I can take, it is entirely out of reach for me. I keep circling back to the self-intelligence manipulation techniques I've studied, knowing they could boost my mental acuity, yet they require a mind prepared through specific meditations. My current mental state is mismatched, and the years of experience I've accumulated have become irrelevant in the face of this particular challenge. Those techniques are not a viable path for me—not now.
This self-realization leaves me in a precarious, yet clarifying place. I can't rely on raw knowledge or personal might. My own power is insufficient, and that is the simple truth I have to accept. Intelligence, I remind myself, is not exclusively about what I know or how clever I am. True intelligence lies in the ability to leverage what is available—to use the tools and talents of others where my own reach falls short. In this situation, technology is not a crutch; it is my key. My path forward is not to push against my weaknesses, but to fully embrace the resources around me and turn them into an extension of my will.
With that in mind, I moved toward one of the researcher monsters. Their instruments, precise and refined, hum softly with concealed power. I can almost envision the layers of the cipher unraveling, provided I interpret the readings properly. In puzzles such as these, wisdom is not solely in brute force or raw magic, it is in understanding, in patience, and in using every available advantage to illuminate the path forward.
"Hey, how is the progress going?" I asked in a friendly tone, letting my voice carry lightly through the quiet chamber.
The researcher monster flinched and turned slightly, his claw still scribbling across a smooth tablet. The faint glow of runic lights reflected in his eyes. "Oh—sorry, I didn't hear you coming," he said, his voice tinged with fatigue and focus. "We're… we're trying to send the data to the Great Machine. Once it receives it, the system will search the server for anything that matches, but so far, all we know is that it's Origin Language. So we're forwarding everything to the artificial intelligence for deciphering."
He cast a glance at me, then returned to his work, his claws tapping over commands with an almost nervous rhythm. I could see the tension in the way his shoulders hunched, and the faint tremor in the tip of his tail told me he was exhausted.
"I see," I said softly, leaning closer, watching the steady blinking of the device. "Can I use them for a moment?"
He hesitated only for a heartbeat, then nodded. "Oh, sure," he said, his tone carrying the faint edge of relief. He reached without looking, pulling out another device connected to the server with a thin cord of silver-threaded wire, handing it to me with careful claws. His hand brushed mine briefly, warm and trembling.
"Thank you," I said, meaning it, and stepped away from their tight circle of work to a quieter corner of the chamber.
I sank down against the cool stone wall, letting my bones rest on the uneven floor, and closed my vision for a moment. I inhaled slowly, the air tinged with metallic dust and the faint hum of magic from the devices. Unrealized tension bled out of me as I exhaled. My fingers flexed over the smooth surface of the device as I grounded myself, recalling the long, distant hours I had spent with machines like this, the way commands formed bridges between thought and function.
After a few calming breaths, I opened my eyes and began tapping in commands. The screen lit up with scrolling symbols, the hum of processing resonating faintly in my chest. My heart steadied. For the first time since entering the chamber, I felt a small thrill of purpose, a sense that, with my hands on the device, I was no longer a bystander but part of the rhythm of uncovering the secret of the Land of Kall.
By each passing second, I grew more adept at commanding the devices, my skeletal fingers tracing their smooth surfaces with practiced precision. These machines thrived on the fusion of science and language, and is powered by the magic energy as their lifeblood. Monsterkind technology was not mere metal and gears; it was a living system of symbols, an intricate language that responded only to those who could read and write its commands.
I began writing commands into the device, each line a precise arrangement of runes and sigils forming logical instructions. To humans, it might appear as random markings, but to us, it was the poetry of control, the art of creating song of commands in the tongue of monsters. Each symbol carried layered meaning, and when strung together, they became sentences and scripts the machine could understand, unlocking its deeper functions.
Even now, the device eagerly drank my magic energy through my skeletal fingers, the interface pulsing faintly as if acknowledging my growing fluency. In the first week, I ignored this technology, fearing to waste precious magic. Back then, I had erected a wall between my soul and body to conserve every drop of magic energy. But with my new artificial soul, the constraints had lifted I could afford to let the magic energy flow freely.
With every command I inscribed, I wove a dialogue between mind and machine, bridging the logic of science and the will. The device was no longer foreign to me; it had become an extension of my thoughts, a tool that translated my desires into action through the coded language of our kind.
And with me already deciphered origin language I start to seek things more specifically and accurately till I get record from server
"It occurred to me, in a drifting sort of way, that the figure had not spoken to me since before the tournament. I had sought him then, chasing after places where I might secure the materials I needed, and he had been there, a presence in network of Moltier and in the will of my magic. But after the tournament… he fell silent. There was no explanation, no farewell, just an absence that settled into the space he once occupied."
Even within the current of my own magic, where I could sometimes feel him like a faint echo in the past, there was nothing now. A quiet, too complete, pressed against the edges of my will. It should have been a relief, perhaps, to stand without his voice threading through my decisions, yet it was not. The stillness gnawed in a way I could not name. I found myself thinking that perhaps something was wrong, or perhaps I was simply feeling the weight of being left alone without warning.
I do not know if the unease comes from him, or from me. Maybe the silence only mirrors a part of myself I do not wish to see, but I can't shake the sense that this emptiness is watching me back.
Soon server found matching and send them back to me
"Ahh… so this fragment belongs to a novel from two millennia past," I murmured, my voice a dry rasp echoing in the stone chamber, the timbre of hollow bones speaking to themselves. My skeletal fingers, long and thin as pale branches, hovered over the runes projected by the server's device, tracing their shapes in the air without quite touching them. "From the overview… it appears to be a story of the original Lord of Life…"
The title hung in my mind, heavy as an unspoken curse. "Lord of Life…" I whispered again, the words scraping against the void inside my chest. "Where… where have I heard that, in the fractured echoes of my life in previous timeline?"
The memory came like a splinter under the nail, subtle and maddening. At first, there was only the faintest pull, an itch in the recesses of recollection, but the pressure grew with each passing heartbeat. A strange compulsion gripped me, as if unseen hands reached from the dust of history itself and seized my skull, prying open the coffin of my mind.
My hollow sockets throbbed with a phantom pain as the compulsion grew unbearable. "Ghh…!" I hissed, dropping to one knee, my bony hand clamped over my skull as if to hold the ache together. A pulse of magic shivered through my bones, not my own will, but an instinctive defense, trying to push away the invasive flood of memory.
Images flickered in the darkness behind my empty eyes. Misaligned fragments of another life, another self, a timeline where I had walked under a different sky. The name—Lord of Life—echoed like a tolling bell through a hall of fractured memories. I felt the weight of ancient words and forgotten vows, the taste of dust and metal, the scent of a battlefield that no longer existed.
I leaned heavily on one hand, my claws scraping against the cold floor, the sound sharp and brittle. "Why…" I whispered to myself, voice trembling with confusion and a hollow fear I rarely felt, "…why does that name… make me remember?"
A spike of pain shot through my skull, an ache that rattled my teeth within their sockets. I pressed my hands against my head, bones clicking softly, as if I could hold the shards of my mind together by force. The chamber around me blurred, the faint glows of the researcher monsters' devices stretching into ghostly streaks of light.
For a moment, I could no longer feel the ground beneath me or the weight of my body. Only the compulsion, the pain, and the haunting resonance of that name the Lord of Life.
Then, like a wave breaking, the pain receded to a dull pulse, leaving me trembling and uncertain. My thoughts were scattered, fragments of past and present colliding in the empty core of my being. I lowered my hands slowly, claws trembling, the echoes of that forgotten title still whispering in the hollow of my chest.
"...I… need to understand," I muttered, my voice barely more than a rattle, as the compulsion to uncover the truth began to take root, deeper than the pain, heavier than the fear.
So, I left the device behind and stepped out of the cave, needing desperately to escape the suffocating press of stone and the constant hum of the machines. The instant I emerged into the thin, chill air outside, it felt as if the weight on my chest lightened just a fraction. The sky stretched endlessly above me, a muted grey streaked with pale light, and the distant mountains rose like jagged teeth on the horizon. I leaned against the rough rock wall, letting the cold seep into my bones, grounding me in the present moment.
My mind was a maelstrom, a storm of thoughts, memories, and feelings crashing against each other in ceaseless waves. Fragments of the Origin Language spun through my head, echoing in my hollow skull, mixing with the whispers of the Lord of Life, and the fractured recollections of a life I could barely grasp. Images of past battles, of the Holy Knight's relentless assault, of the blinding light of my nature spirits, passed before my inner vision, jumbled and incomplete.
I could feel the thrum of magic energy in my core, restless and unsteady, like a heartbeat out of rhythm. Every breath I took seemed to stir up more of the chaos inside me, pulling jagged edges of memory and emotion to the surface. Grief, anger, envy, and a hollow fear I could not name—they all collided in the emptiness of my chest, leaving me trembling.
I closed my eyes, tilting my skull back toward the sky, letting the cool wind wash over me. For a moment, I simply listened: to the quiet hiss of air moving between the rocks, to the distant, muted calls of night creatures, and to the faint, almost imperceptible pulse of the Land of Kall behind me. My hands curled and uncurled slowly, claws scraping against stone, as I tried to order my thoughts, to find even a scrap of clarity within the relentless flood.
There was no clarity. There was only the overwhelming tide of memory and emotion, a mind straining under too many burdens. And yet, in that raw confusion, a strange resolve began to take root. I would face it all, the secrets, the pain, the truth buried in ancient names. But first, I just needed to breathe, to let the storm pass, and to remember that I was still here, standing in the open air.
"…No matter where I go, problems seemed to be always there, waiting to be solved. They seem to build up over time, quietly and steadily. And I've no choice but solve through understanding, after all these years of wandering and facing challenges, that solving problems doesn't mean much if my own mind isn't in order. I need to take care of myself first before I can handle the world around me. But... what is Lord of life is this something horrifying that my mind refusing to remember I don't understand it at all"
After a few moments of stillness, the storm in my mind finally quieted. My skeletal fingers flexed against the cold stone as I exhaled, letting the faint wind wash over me. That was when I heard the light but deliberate footsteps.
Lucky.
He emerged from the shadowed tunnel, his posture stiff, eyes sharp with some hidden weight. "What happened to you?" he asked, voice level but probing.
I turned my skull toward him, the hollow sockets catching the dim light, and forced a casual tone. "Just bad memories, that's all."
He hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly at his sides. "Oh… I see. Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"Nah, I'm good," I said, stretching my body with an exaggerated ease. "A few more moments and I'm fully back."
He let out a soft sigh, one that suggested uncomfortably state rather than relief. "Okay… *sigh* hey, can I talk to you about the tournament stuff?"
My instincts pricked like needles. Something was off, he wasn't simply passing time. This was preparing.
"Sure, go ahead," I replied in the same voice, though I added a subtle edge, a restriction he would notice.
He look at me with those deep, sharp eyes, and then spoke with a calm precision that betrayed the effort behind his restraint. "You are the one who attacked during the tournament, aren't you? Even if I'm wrong, you at least have connections to that monster."
I tilted my skull slightly, allowing a pause to fill the air. "…And how did you come up with such an idea?" I asked, though internally I already knew the answer. His intelligence hadn't failed him. During the tournament, he had faced me in underground of arena. I had erased any visual resemblance, yet deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time. A mind like his feeds on patterns. He was far from being a fool.
My measurements based on knowledge of him also shows how smart he is. Lucky was intelligent, an heir to noble monster education, trained from childhood to read and learn things. He could see beyond what most noticed, and even now, he was trying to peel my layers open. But I could not afford to expose myself.
Lucky's gaze hardened, the weight of his certainty pressing forward. "You are a skeleton monster. With your clothes, it's nearly impossible to tell, but I saw you without your mask. There is only one skeleton monster in Moltier City. And… my wisdom type arcane artifact confirmed my suspicion. Even if you are not him, you are connected to him." His voice was serious, but I caught the flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he looked down at his hands.
I let the silence stretch, observing him as if he were a specimen under glass. Every shift of his eyes, every flicker of doubt was laid bare to me. He was intelligent, yes, but not invincible. He wanted confirmation, a final puzzle piece to secure his theory, but he did not have it. He was approaching me with assumptions, not evidence.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," I said evenly, projecting the calm certainty of truth, "but I have no connection to that monster."
Then, tilting my skull in a mockery of casual playfulness, I added, "and Nice try, but fool's day is tomorrow."
Lucky blinked, caught between confusion and awkwardness. I could almost hear the machinery of his thoughts clattering. Was I wrong? Or is he joking to dodge the truth? His uncertainty radiated off him like heat. He had not come to me immediately after the tournament. He had waited, analyzed, perhaps even doubted his own conclusion. That hesitation told me his wisdom artifact was likely rank 2 or 3 enough to give direction, but not to prove.
I watched him closely, dissecting his mind as effortlessly as inhaling. He was smart, but I had lived lifetimes sharpening my wits against death itself. His intelligence was a sharp blade, but mine was the sheath that could swallow it whole.
Inside, a faint amusement stirred. "Is the world telling me to seek out a wisdom-type artifact?" I thought, gazing at Lucky's conflicted face. His brilliance had done its best, and yet here he was doubting himself, tangled by his own mind, while I remained unreadable.
I let the silence stretch a second longer, and Lucky eventually looked away first.
Then he look back at me said "yeah happy fools day" his voice filled with hesitation and vibe of inexperienced liar I mean most monster don't lie so to him lying is more harder than memorizing entire book
"Seriously dude you almost got me with your all serious face and voice to point where I was thinking this is not joke but" I paused as I walked close to him and hugging him by neck and start to run his head "you definitely did most crazy prank on me in my whole life nice job keep going"
I know he already planning to using fool's day excuse to apologize when he find himself wrong which is correct method not offending anyone but confirming suspicion while trying to not lie as much as possible I mean others can see monster lie only during fool's day
"…hehe yeah I did full most crazy thing" Lucky said as soft smile returned on his face
…
as someone who has lived and breathed the essence of wisdom-type arcane artifacts, whose entire existence has been shaped by their whispers and the truths they reveal I'm more than qualified to be master of wisdom
In my previous life, I possessed a wisdom-type arcane artifact known as the Knowledge Enlightenment Arcane Artifact. Alongside it, I had two other wisdom artifacts, minor yet still potent in their own right. I remember the day I chose to sacrifice those two lesser artifacts, feeding their essence into the Knowledge Enlightenment Arcane Artifact, elevating it to rank 6. It was a calculated decision, one only someone who had walked the path of relentless deduction could make. I needed clarity, precision, and power, not a scattered collection of lesser tools.
With the enhanced artifact, I plunged into the world of ciphers and the endless deduction of possibilities. Each puzzle became a heartbeat, each mystery a breath. Over time, my skills grew sharper, honed by survival and obsession. Eventually, the artifact reached rank 18. That was a level of insight most could not comprehend—where its whispers were no longer words but instincts that wove themselves into my very thoughts. Yet, in the end, I became superior even to my artifact. My mind outpaced its gifts, and its once-priceless insights became redundant. It is a strange thing, to surpass the tool that once defined your existence.
But that was then.
The me of this life has never touched a wisdom-type arcane artifact. I know better than most how invaluable they are. Yet, without reaching rank 9, using such artifacts is a waste; I can only bind them, unable to wield their full potential. Even so, Lucky's recent assumptions about me prove just how dangerous these artifacts can be against me in the right hands.
Conclusions drawn from wisdom-type arcane artifacts are never delivered as concrete words or fixed statements. Instead, they manifest as abstract sensations—an intuitive language of impressions and feelings that whisper meaning rather than dictate it. These insights provide clarity by guiding the mind to recognize patterns, sense deception, or perceive hidden truths, yet they remain fluid and open to interpretation. Their greatest strength lies in the flexibility they grant to the user, allowing one to adapt to uncertain or unknown circumstances without becoming trapped by rigid logic. In the vast realm of the unpredictable, such flexibility becomes a weapon sharper than certainty itself.
A wisdom artifact's insight is a double-edged blade. It can mislead if the knowledge it draws upon is insufficient or tainted by falsehoods. Lucky's artifact likely told him I was connected to the tournament incident, but not that I was its mastermind. To his perception, I might merely have been in the wrong place at the wrong time—or perhaps the true mastermind was my brother. His doubt, his hesitation, all stemmed from the way the artifact communicates: not as an omniscient voice, but as a whisper of intuition, leaving the mind to fill in the gaps.
I can't help but find it amusing, yet also sobering. A detective armed with a rank 3 wisdom-type artifact? That would be a nightmare. Unlike traditional investigators who chase evidence and proof, such a detective would feel the truth, hunting the guilty in ways that could not be easily evaded.
This is the hierarchy of wisdom artifacts as I understand it, forged through experience. rank 1 and 2 are largely useless. The mind of a monster, trained and sharpened, can outthink them with ease. But at rank 3, they awaken into something dangerous, something capable of piercing veils.
Lucky's artifact is dangerous, not because it is infallible, but because it is persistent. And I, who once soared beyond the reach of even a rank 18 Knowledge Enlightenment Arcane Artifact, know well that even an imperfect whisper can one day unravel the careful lies of a life like mine.
The most effective approach is to do nothing at all. Any deliberate reaction to his use of the wisdom-type arcane artifact would create ripples, subtle cues that the artifact's impressions could latch onto, strengthening his intuitive conclusions. Direct interference is dangerous, because these artifacts are not like rigid tools that demand evidence; they thrive on the fluidity of perception, assembling truths from feelings, impressions, and the faintest inconsistencies, almost everything in user's mind.
Conclusions drawn from a wisdom artifact are not fixed statements—they are fluid, abstract, and flexible like streams of imagination. This fluidity is precisely what makes them powerful. Rather than delivering a concrete accusation, the artifact offers the user an impression, a sense of connection, or a whisper of suspicion that aligns with the subtle cues it receives. If I were to move, speak, or act in any way that feels like concealment or resistance, those fleeting sensations would merge into a coherent "truth" in his mind, binding me to the event in his perception.
By doing nothing, I remain a blank canvas. My stillness denies the artifact and its wielder the living threads they need to weave a narrative. In the flexible language of wisdom artifacts, absence of reaction is the strongest defense. It forces the conclusions to scatter, to remain fluid and dissipate without forming the hard edge of certainty. This strategy, grounded in experience and knowledge, exploits the artifact's greatest strength, its ability to draw meaning from subtlety, by feeding it only emptiness, leaving its whispers with nowhere to take root.
This strategy, while effective against lower-tier wisdom-type arcane artifacts, carries inherent risk exposure should Lucky or anyone use a rank 4 artifact. At that threshold, the artifact's interpretive and pattern-recognition capabilities are sufficient to detect the absence of behavioral cues as a deliberate maneuver. In risk management terms, this constitutes a vulnerability, my current approach relies entirely on remaining a passive, unreadable target, turning inaction into a form of concealment.
The risk profile escalates significantly under these conditions. A rank 4 wisdom type artifact would not only perceive the strategic void I am creating but also infer intent from the lack of natural variance in my behavior, effectively unmasking me. From a risk analysis perspective, this is a scenario of high impact and medium-to-high likelihood if such an adversary is encountered. The threat vector is compounded by the artifact's ability to transform abstract impressions into coherent suspicion, converting my defense into a liability.
In simple terms, if a rank 4 wisdom-type arcane artifact is used against me, my current concealment strategy collapses entirely. The exposure results in immediate reputational and tactical failure—a critical breach analogous to being catastrophically compromised in the most embarrassing and hazardous manner. Mitigation would require either escalation to counter-intelligence measures or the acquisition of equivalent or superior wisdom-type resources to neutralize detection.
I have 3 ways to solve this
Diversify defensive methods to create controlled behavioral noise.
Acquire or leverage a wisdom-type arcane artifact to distort detection patterns.
Develop contingency plans for immediate disengagement if exposed.
From a risk management standpoint, the strategy is only acceptable in environments where rank 4 artifacts are unlikely; otherwise, the exposure is unsustainably high.
And It is called a wisdom-type arcane artifact for a reason. And from me experience and knowledge, having walked the razor's edge between survival and insight. These artifacts are not mere tools that make someone smarter, nor trinkets to be wielded lightly. They embody the very essence of wisdom itself, the convergence of intellect and strategy, the distilled power of perception honed to a terrifying edge.
To call them simple instruments is an understatement born of ignorance. Wisdom-type arcane artifacts do more than inform; they reshape the mind of their bearer. They can whisper truths where none are spoken, unravel the threads of deception, and make the unseen patterns of the world appear as plainly as ink on parchment. I have felt their guidance turn hesitation into precise action, and I have seen their insights reach beyond the limits of knowledge into the realm of instinct.
They are beyond intelligence, beyond knowledge. They embody a perception so sharp it is almost predatory, a faculty that sees not only what is but what will be. In the right hands, that perception is as terrifying as any blade or raw power, for it strips away the shelter of secrecy and lays bare the heart of any scheme. This is why they are named as they are, and why those who understand them do not take them lightly.
Lucky and I trudged back along the narrow path from camp, the night air cool against our skin—or in my case, my bones. The forest around the cave was quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of night insects. The moonlight filtered through the canopy in silver shafts, painting the path with soft glimmers.
I was lost in my own thoughts, the rhythm of our footsteps steady against the earth. My mind churned with questions about the Land of Kall, the weight of the Origin Language inscriptions, and the risk of Lucky's suspicions.
"Hey, Sans… are you okay?" Lucky's voice broke the silence. He walked just a step behind me, his tone light but tinged with curiosity.
I glanced over my shoulder, my hollow sockets meeting his bright, earnest eyes. "Oh, nothing," I said, waving a skeletal hand casually. "Just… wondering how to open the entrance to the Land of Kall."
He nodded slowly, studying me as we passed beneath a twisted old tree whose branches curled like skeletal fingers. "Ahhh… so that's why you're lost in thought again. I guess your dedication is very admirable," he said, his voice lifting, trying to lighten the heavy mood.
"…Dedication, huh? I guess you can put it that way," I muttered, the words slipping from my bony jaw as we approached the cave's mouth. The entrance yawned before us, dark and cool, its stone edges etched with the faint glow of residual runes.
Lucky glanced at me thoughtfully. The torchlight from camp flickered in his eyes, and for a moment, he hesitated. "You always think so deeply," he said softly. "It's like… the world rests on your shoulders, and you won't let anyone else carry it."
I didn't respond right away, instead stepping into the cave and letting the cool air wrap around me. The walls glimmered faintly with mineral veins, and our footsteps echoed in the hollow space.
After a pause, I turned to him, my tone deliberately casual. "…Lucky, is there a possibility that you can lend me your wisdom-type arcane artifact?"
Lucky blinked, his head tilting slightly. The faint blue light from the cave walls cast a soft halo around him. "Huh? My artifact?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "You've never asked for it before… why now?"
I shrugged, pacing a little deeper inside, letting my fingers trail along the cold rock. "Because… I want to understand more. About the Land of Kall. About the inscriptions. You've used it before, right? It gives impressions, whispers of truth."
He hesitated, eyes darting to the side. "Yeah… it does. But it's… well, it's not perfect. It's like getting feelings, not facts. Are you sure you want to rely on that?"
I turned to face him fully, letting the dim light catch the polished edges of my bones. "Sometimes feelings are enough to start with," I said. "Sometimes they guide you to logic and reason. Don't worry, I know how artifacts like that work."
For a moment, we stood in the quiet, the faint echo of dripping water somewhere deep in the cave filling the silence. Lucky's fingers brushed the small satchel at his side where the artifact rested, and I could see the conflict in his expression.
"You're… different, Sans," he said finally, the words almost a whisper. "I feel like you're always ten steps ahead, like you see things I can't. It's… kinda scary sometimes."
I chuckled softly, the sound a hollow rattle in the cave. "Then let's keep it that way for now… But if you trust me, lend me your artifact. I won't break it. I promise."
Lucky's lips quirked into a small, uncertain smile. "Okay… I'll think about it," he said, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer before he finally looked away, the soft glow of our surroundings reflecting in his gaze.
The cave breathed with us in that moment, a silent witness to the threads of trust and suspicion weaving between us.
But even now, I cannot help but find him endearing. If circumstances allowed, I would gladly teach him to wield his arcane artifact with greater skill, to show him the subtle intricacies that turn whispers of intuition into flowing insight.
Yet I am bound by the quiet logic of survival since revealing my mastery would only expose my knowledge about wisdom type arcane artifact. His hesitant gestures, the way he pauses when doubt flickers in his mind, speak louder than he knows. I can tell, with the certainty of experience, that the artifact he carries is no more than rank 3.
He looks at me with trust and unspoken warmth, and I see in him a young soul trying to navigate the weight of riddles he does not yet fully understand. It is kinda very adorable, in a way, watching him puzzle over truths, unsure yet determined. He reminds me of a child leaning over a complex lock, tiny fingers tracing the shape of keys they will one day master.
Perhaps it is strange that I think this way. He and I are both twenty by the calendar, yet he is, in essence, still only eighteen in the rhythm of his heart and the softness of his thoughts. I, on the other hand, carry the weariness and clarity of one who has lived for 189 years old monster whose perspective has stretched across decades of battle and solitude. My perception is not the same as his. The world I see is harsher, heavier, and lonelier. Yet, even in that weight, I find a quiet affection for this fleeting innocence. It is a small light I do not wish to snuff out, no matter how far my path diverges from his.
"Here you go," Lucky said quietly, his claws trembling a little as he brought out his wisdom-type arcane artifact. The faint glow from the artifact spilled across the cave walls, painting the rock in shades of blue and green. I studied it with a casual glance that belied the depth of my observation.
It was unmistakably a Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact, rank 3. Its tiny tree-like form rested easily on his palm, roots curling delicately as though clinging to invisible soil. I noted the leaves—blue emerald instead of blue diamond—confirming both its category and its limitations.
"This is…" I let my voice trail off, tilting my skull slightly as though uncertain. In truth, I knew exactly what it was, but revealing that knowledge now would be reckless.
"That… is an Intelligent Lording Arcane Artifact," Lucky said, testing the words with careful neutrality. His eyes flicked to me, sharp and measuring, as if searching for a crack in my mask.
(Ah… he's probing. A subtle theory test. He suspects I know more than I let on—perhaps he wants to see if I'll stumble over my own ignorance or confirm his artifact's whispers. Clever, for someone untrained.)
I leaned closer, my voice tinged with thoughtful confusion. "Oh, I see… but isn't the Intelligent Lording Arcane Artifact supposed to have blue diamond leaves on its branches? These are blue emerald leaves…" I paused deliberately, letting a small, knowing smile tug at the corner of my jawless face. "…Oh, I see now. You're new to the path of wisdom as well. It's easy to make that mistake. Wait a second, how did you get this artifact? Did your family give it to you?"
Lucky hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. His fingers twitched slightly against the artifact, and I could see the gears of his mind spinning, searching for an answer that would not betray him fully.
I pressed gently, my tone teasing yet curious. "So… uh… how do you even use this if you didn't know what kind of artifact it was? Dude… are you okay?"
He froze, covering his face with one hand, looking away. The shame in his posture was palpable—his attempt at deduction had turned back on him. Poor Lucky. He had tried to test me, to measure my knowledge against the whispers of his rank 3 artifact, and in doing so, exposed his own inexperience.
"…Don't tell me you really didn't know, and you've just been using it by luck," I said, my voice light and amused. "Dude… you truly live up to your name."
"No, it's not like that—ah, just forget it!" Lucky stammered, his voice cracking as he turned and bolted out of the cave, his footsteps echoing against the stone.
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound rattling in my hollow chest. "Hahahahah! If I didn't know better, even I would have believed he truly didn't know the type of arcane artifact he's been wielding. But no… he's clever. He's just young. And this—" I glanced at the artifact, noting its structure and faint pulse of energy "—this is a solver-category wisdom-type arcane artifact. Just perfect for him… even if he doesn't yet see it."
In that moment, I admired him quietly. Lucky's intelligence wasn't in perfect knowledge or confidence—it was in curiosity, in subtle tests, in the instinct to question. He would grow, and one day, his mind would sharpen till he reach level master of wisdom or high lord of wisdom but right those are irrelevant right now I need to use it solve all those cypher on gate
With that thought I walk deeper into cave till I reached other researchers it seems they are still busy